


Quest: Take Back Erebor!

by theblindtorpedo



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crossover, Ensemble Cast, Host Clubs, Multi, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield, seventeen years old and rightful heir to the Durin family, owner of Erebor Academy, gathers a company of classmates, relations and an unwitting freshman named Bilbo to take back his rights to his inheritance from Mr. Smaug, de facto tyrant of Durin Enterprises. But Thorin's methods are unconventional, to say the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Party

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crack AU written somewhat seriously. Therefore, many liberties have been taken with ages and relationships. I will be bending the canon to fit it loosely into the new story line I have created, and therefore will take characteristics from the book canon and the movie canon as I see fit. As the Lord of the Rings characters will be appearing as well, obviously ages have been reworked, such as Gimli being Gloin's little brother rather than son.
> 
> For the record this is all plotted in my head so will be finished as quickly as I can in the bustle that is life!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

No one questioned how Bilbo Baggins came to live in an apartment on his own, despite his few years, but the arrangement was quite fine for everyone involved. No loud music or muffled banging could be heard at night coming up from the first floor where Bilbo lived. Many said he had the mind of a fifty year old trapped in a younger hobbit's body. The neighbors were happy that a Baggins remained at Bag End on the Hill, as the complex was called. A teenager he might be, but at least Bilbo was a Baggins. And the Bagginses were respectable, not only because they were rich, but because they never did anything unexpected or out of the ordinary. This is the story of how a Baggins had an adventure and found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected.

This tale begins on a certain afternoon one day in late August when Bilbo was preparing afternoon tea. He set out another cup and saucer, the special ones with roses on the edges from the set his aunt had given him last Yule, for he had rather rashly invited a Mr. Gandalf over. Gandalf was a wizard, but made living managing finances among them that of deceased Bungo and Belladonna Baggins. Bilbo found him eccentric and queer, but he was a necessary inconvenience. The scones had finished baking and the kettle began a frantic boiling when he heard a tremendous ring from the front door bell. With haste he pulled the scones from the oven and the kettle from the stove and proceeded to go skittering down the hall to answer the door.

"I am so sorry to keep you waiting!" he was going to say, when he pulled open the door to see it was not Gandalf at all. It was another teenager, tall and broad in the shoulders. He was well muscled with indecipherable tattoos spotting his head, which was shaved close to the scalp. He stood a little over a foot taller than Bilbo. It was a dwarf.

"Dwalin, at your service," he said gruffly.

"B-Bilbo Baggins at yours and your family's," an astonished Bilbo replied after a moment. He stepped back to allow the dwarf into his home, though not without a feeling of discomfort rising in his belly.

"No one here else yet." Dwalin stated, as he placed a leather jacket on the empty coat rack.

"What?" Bilbo began shrilly, "You mean that others-" He was interrupted by another sound at the door.

"Mr. Baggins?" It was another dwarf, shorter. He wore a prim maroon button up shirt and his light brown hair spiked out at the sides of his head. Bilbo could spot a few premature grey tufts. He held a more forthcoming gleam in his dark, friendly eyes.

"Yes!" Bilbo squeaked.

"Balin at your service!" the dwarf bowed with hand on his breast, "Ah, brother!" he exclaimed catching a sight of Dwalin. The new arrival ambled over and placed his own scarlet jacket on a peg, and proceeded to hug his brother, while Bilbo looked on fearfully. He quite liked visitors, but he did like to know them before they arrived and he preferred to ask them himself.

"You two are relations?" Bilbo asked, in an effort to engage his two guests.

"Yes we are," Balin replied, proudly, clapping his brother on the back, who nodded, "We both go to the school. I'm in my second year and my Dwalin here is in third."

"I'm in my first," Bilbo said. Balin raised an eyebrow.

"A young one? Gandalf must have much faith in you. Already committed then I presume? Have you transferred all your paperwork yet?"

"Committed? Paperwork?" Bilbo asked, voice rising in frantic confusion. Whatever were these dwarves doing here?

"He doesn't know." Dwalin observed.

"Ah a shame. But it is all very last minute. He'll find out soon enough. Hey, lad," he then said to Bilbo who was wringing his hands, "Are we to have tea?"

"Oh, yes!" Bilbo exclaimed, embarrassed to have lost his manners in the suddenness of the dwarves arrival. "Come along then," he managed to say after a deep breath. He ushered Dwalin and Balin out of the foyer and into the humble dining room, then scuttled off to the kitchen to find two sets more of cups, saucers and plates and perhaps another basket of seed cakes. He was just placing them at the table- where Balin and Dwalin were talking about boards of education and inheritances and things he did not understand-when there was another ring at the doorbell.

"Sounds like some six," Balin said, winking, "we saw them coming along behind us."

"Six!" Bilbo sat down and put his head in his hands. Would they all stay for supper?

The bell rang again.

And it was not six it was seven. He learned that Fili and Kili were both first years and Ori was a third year (though Bilbo suspected a lie, he looked far too young.) Dori, Nori, Oin and Gloin were no longer high schoolers. The former two had come to support their younger brother and the latter two were distantly related to the other dwarves so had a personal interest in the matter. What matter this was Bilbo had not quite figured out. He was kept very busy playing host: bringing cups and cakes and tea and beer - in the middle of the afternoon of all things! "I don't have any of that!" he had said indignantly when they had first asked for alcohol, "I am nowhere near of age to drink!" but the dwarves had stared at him until he had blushed and yes his parents had kept some old liquors downstairs he would just fetch them right up.

Then there was not a ring, but a sharp knock. By this point Bilbo was very angry. Whoever was at the door was undoubtedly scratching the beautiful green paint he had redone only last week. With the school year fast approaching he did not think he would find any time to sit and repaint it again. Confound these dwarves! he muttered to himself as he stomped to the foyer, throwing the door open only to have four more dwarves come tumbling upon his doorstep and a very amused looking Gandalf peering at him from under big grey brows.

It had been over two hours and the dwarves and Gandalf were still eating and drinking. Bilbo had had to run down to the local supermarket and bundled back ten new bags of groceries to feed them with more mince pies and tea and scones and jam and salad and cheese. He wondered if they noticed he had left at all. Eventually, he was able to sit down upon a stool in the corner where he sipped nervously from a teacup. The sky outside grew darker. At long last a tall, dark dwarf with a haughty expression stood.

"Let Thorin speak!" Gandalf boomed, and the dwarves hushed. This leader, Thorin, bowed to Gandalf.

"Although our object is well known to many of us, I believe an explanation is in order for both the estimable Mr. Baggins and for some of the younger members of our party." He glanced over at where Fili, Kili and Ori sat. Kili waved excitedly and Thorin's brow furrowed, but he turned back to address the whole room.

"We are a Host Club!" Thorin said and there was a crash as Bilbo fell off his stool.

"A what?" he stuttered from where he now sat on the floor, rubbing his head. This was only a question of politeness; Bilbo knew quite rightly what a Host Club was and was very certain he did not want one in his home.

"The Erebor Academy Host Club," Thorin repeated and Bilbo's eyes grew wide as sprang to his feet and sat primly upon his chair again. He recognized the name. This must be "the school" the dwarves had been referring to all evening. Erebor Academy was one of the most prestigious schools in the nation. The students were all of impressive lineage and rich families. He knew where and when respect was due.

"Thorin is heir to the line of Durin," Gandalf explained, "A great dwarf dynasty. It is they, in fact, who own Erebor Academy."

"We did," Thorin said coldly.

Bilbo remembered seeing a piece about the movement of Durin family assets in the paper. Two years ago, after the untimely death of what must have been Thorin's father and grandfather Thrain and Thror, a Mr. Smaug had taken over control of their real estate and academic enterprises.

"I did not know Thrain had a son."

"Most of the world doesn't," Thorin said, "My father did not marry my mother. Instead he kept her and me away, paying for a suitable lifestyle, but as something shameful to be kept out of the public eye. But with his death I should claim my rightful place as his only son and heir. As I should have always been!" he slammed a fist upon the table, "I shall receive my inheritance. Mr. Smaug, that dragon, refuses to grant me my rights under the pretense that I am not of age. But this is not all! He aims to take all my inheritance by challenging my legitimacy."

"There is not much he can do," Balin leaned over and spoke to Bilbo, "but we have a plan. Thorin turns eighteen at the end of the year. To reclaim his rights he will need powerful allies. Allies who will support him, allies who may hurt Smaug if he does not acknowledge the true heir and hand over the rights to Durin Enterprises."

"This year," Thorin continued, "I am enacting the Host Club to raise our favor among the great families of Middle-Earth. Many of their daughters-"

"And sons," quipped dwarf known as Bofur, who wore a fur lined hat with large ear flaps, absurd for late summer.

"And . . . sons," Thorin added, "attend the school. They are young and impressionable. But powerful. All who sit here are allies of mine. We must make ourselves famous. We must make ourselves well liked. We will put ourselves in the hearts and minds of the students of Erebor Academy, future leaders of the world!"

A loud cheer rose up from the table, which shook under the power of thirteen. Bilbo shivered at the power in Thorin's voice and the sound of loyalty.

"Oin, Gloin, Dori, and Nori will continue their work in the financial sector, providing funds for our mission which will be shuttled through Balin." He gestured toward the five mentioned. They raised their hands in acknowledgement. "They will also spread stories of my potential as a future leader. The rest of you will be part of my Host Club. Now Mr. Baggins!"

Bilbo squeaked.

"We have to make a rounded company of attractive males for the students to dream about, if our plan is too succeed."

"I don't really think that's the best wa-" Bilbo began.

"No," Thorin raised a hand. "Fili, Kili, come here." The two youngest dwarves jumped up from their seats and came to stand in front of Thorin. He looked at their tousled hair and stubble.

"Little devil types," he finally said, "maybe with a hint of forbidden incest."

"Incest? Can we do that?" Fili turned to his brother.

"Why not?" Kili's eyes grew wide and he began batting his eyes, "Am I really so ugly that you would not want me? Just because I don't have a beard!" He began to sniff heavily, as if holding back tears.

"Don't be stupid!" Fili cried, grabbing his brother. He swung him around, dipping him horizontal to the floor. One of Fili's arms supported his brother's back and the other hand reached out to stroke his cheek tenderly. "Those dark curls! No one could be as beautiful as you brother!"

"Oh, Fili!"

"All right, that's enough demonstration," the one called Dori huffed. The uppity dwarf was looking put out. Bilbo was relieved at the interruption; he had felt himself begin to sweat most uncomfortably. In a second Kili was out of his brother's arms, his submissive expression gone. Their default smiles returned, as they wandered back to their seats.

"Good show, boys," Nori said, clapping Fili on the back.

"You really think so?" Kili beamed. "We didn't practice or anything!"

"The ladies will love it," Balin assured, "Nothing more alluring than forbidden gay love between good looking young men. You will get lots of practice to find out exactly what makes the women swoon."

"I'm a bit jealous, I have to say," Bofur said, putting a hand under his chin in an exaggerated pout.

"You want to be doin' that with me?" Bombur snorted. Bofur laughed, "No, course not!" and swatted at his brother's stomach which caused an enormous belch to rise from the dwarf's depths. He let it go with strength and it rang throughout the room.

"Just the ladies all over you," Bofur said after his brother's burp had subsided, "Wouldn't mind that."

His brother Bifur, who sat next to him, made an indecipherable utterance.

"I know Mam said we couldn't," Bofur said, "I'm not begging to be a part am I? But she said we could still be around, you know, helping. And appreciating the merchandise." He winked at Kili. The younger dwarf found a whole in his napkin fascinating.

"And eating the food," Bombur added.

Bifur sighed and put an arm around Bofur. He would be around to watch out for his kin, his action said.

"Well, just stay out of the way of the real work," Balin said, "We still have Dwalin and Ori."

"Wild type, little boy cute type," Thorin said.

"S'rry we're late," Dwalin said, "Boxing practice ran over." He held his head up higher and cast an ambiguous gaze over the room.

The one named Ori, who wore a modest knitted sweater vest over a collared shirt and tie, blushed. "Oh ladies, I am sorry! It's really all my fault. I was worried I would not be able to see your pretty faces, but I saw a puppy on the way here and I had to stop and pet it . . ." he trailed off and clasped his hands in front of him. Earnest, big, brown eyes swept the same path as Dwalin's had.

"Very good," Balin said, "then there's myself-"

"Cool type."

"-and yourself."

"Princely type!" Fili and Kili chorused from their end.

Balin thought for a moment. "Yes. That might work. It would help our cause to portray you as rightful heir."

"I wish to reclaim my inheritance, not flaunt it and appear narcissistic. I am unsure. Mr Baggins, do you find me princely?" Thorin reached out and gently cupped Bilbo under the chin, jolted, but found he could not move away. "Imagine you are a customer."

Bilbo found his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He stared into those dark, brooding eyes. And he could not imagine how anyone could not find Thorin princely. He was undeniably handsome. His confidant stature and strong jaw spoke ofa natural leader. "Um, yes perhaps," he breathed.

"That'll do then," Thorin smiled gently. Bilbo's chin felt cold as a hand left his face.

"So that leaves Mr. Baggins."

"Excuse me?" Bilbo cried, "What do I have to do with any of this?"

"Well, you are to be a part of our Host Club are you not?" Thorin said.

Gandalf coughed from his corner. "I'm afraid I did not fully enlighten Mr. Baggins as to the purpose of your visit this evening. You see, Bilbo, I have let you live in your apartment out of the kindness of my heart, but I am not made of money. Mortgage payment is fast approaching and the bank is asking. And did you not give a thought to your utility bills? I have been paying them these past few months. You will help Thorin in his quest and he will pay for everything you need so neither you nor I will end up in the poorhouse."

"But what if I don't want to help him? I can find other ways to get the money Gandalf, other than selling my body!"

"Ingrate!" Thorin said through clenched teeth, "You will be receiving the finest education in all of Middle Earth as a 'scholarship student,' with no cost to you!"

"Other than my dignity!" Bilbo glared at Thorin, who glared back.

"Listen, Mr. Baggins, Bilbo, may I call you Bilbo?" Balin spoke up. Bilbo was still huffing in fury, but he did so silently. "You are not selling your body. Merely, letting a few choice young men and women admire it. And perhaps engage in fantasies about romantic involvement with you, but none of that shall bother you. You will only need to be friendly and charming. And serve the tea. From this afternoon's observation I say you are a natural at that."

"Most hobbits are," the wizard said.

Bilbo wilted at the compliment. "I can do charming," he said, after a calming breath, "and I can serve tea. Is that really all?"

"Engage in some small conversation."

"Hmph," Bilbo leaned against the wall heavily. He thought of his cozy home, when it was not filled to the brim with dwarves. He thought of his nice little garden. He thought of sitting alone working steadily through a good book. He liked these things.

"Oh all right," he finally said.

The dwarves cheered.


	2. Beginnings

He was walking along contently. The sun was shining and Bilbo was filled with the confidence only a new school year could bring. A new leather schoolbag swung over one shoulder, filled with variety of notebooks and carefully selected pens. There was a bounce in his step and a whistle from his lips as he walked, smiling at the carefully tended gardens and houses he passed. This happy mood was quickly destroyed as he was almost run over by Gandalf’s motorcycle.

“My dear boy, wherever are you going?” the wizard asked, pulling to a sharp halt.

“To school! Wherever else should I be going?” Bilbo could not help the annoyance spill from his mouth, but what can one expect after nearly been beaten upon the asphalt by a mad accountant.

“Yet you are walking off in the opposite direction,” Gandalf said, “Erebor Academy lies half an hour in that direction.” He pointed a thin finger behind Bilbo.

The hobbit’s face grew pale. The dwarves. He had entirely forgotten, maybe even willed himself to forget. The unexpected party had been over three weeks ago. He had hoped it had all been some terrible dream and as the days had beat on he had become more and more convinced perhaps he had eaten something off that night and had a strange dream. Yet in a way he could not have helped being a trifle disappointed. But there was hope in what was most probably a dream and there was reality. To Bilbo the latter had meant preparing for his first day at the same school he had attended for the past eight years.

“They even left you a message,” Gandalf scolded, “Thorin thought you might try to bow out on your contract. Here I am disappointed to see he may have been right. Were you really in such a hurry that you did not see it under the welcome mat?” He pulled a small cream envelope out of his pocket. “Thankfully, I thought to keep an eye on you on your first day.”  
A tentative hand took the letter

 _Bilbo,_ it began in a firm, bold script.

( _Thorin would have called you Mr. Baggins, but I fought for calling you by your first name. We are to be classmates and friends after all! But don’t mention I wrote you this. Dwalin and I delivered the letter, but we weren’t supposed to change or add anything, which is no fun at all._ ) This was written in the margins, in a playful, thinner hand.

 _Our sincerest thanks for your offer of assistance,_ the darker writing resumed, _Terms: all utility bills and mortgage payments for 1 Bag End will be forwarded to and paid through the Erebor Academy Host Club bank account. This transaction will be overseen by Mssrs. Gandalf and Dori. All outfit and travel expensis on club business will be automatically compensated for. This is unofficial employment; you will be expected to perform to the best of your ability to retain your placement. We will await your arrival at Music Room Three at 11am sharp, trusting that you will be punctual._  
Yours deeply,  
Thorin and Co.

( _See you there!_ ) the other writer added at the bottom with a hastily drawn smiley face.

“Now you are already late for your first class. Best be off running,” Gandalf said.

“But-“

“No time for excuses!”

He was gone in a cloud of exhaust. Bilbo stood coughing in the leftover fumes then proceeded to look down at his wristwatch. 7:40am, he would have to run! Run he did, as fast as he could until he stood puffing in front of grand iron gates entwined with vines and a stylized curved E.

“Bravo!” Balin called, waving at Bilbo. He was leaning coolly against the stone wall, in which the gate was laid. He wore a fitted royal blue suit and a dark blue tie, white shirt with starched collar, and dark leather shoes. A black bag was slung over one shoulder. He managed to hold it with an elegance Bilbo envied. He suddenly felt woefully inadequate in his simple shirt, red fall jacket and bright green pants.

“Let’s go then,” Balin said grabbing his forearm and gently leading him through the gates. Bilbo had the sudden feeling that he was about to embark on something grand, far grander than himself, and that if he took one step more his life would never be the same. But he had signed a contract and deep down, a Tookish part of him awoke and sent hot flashes of excitement to his brain. So he stepped over the threshold with a nervous gulp. Balin smiled in reassurance.  
Bilbo gasped as he entered the school for the first time. His family had been wealthy, but of the type that indulged in small luxuries that matched the humble and bucolic sensibilities of hobbits. This decadence was well over his head. The ceiling extended at least three stories above their heads. He knew the school had multiracial attendance and had expected large facilities, but this was beyond even his own expectations. Men, dwarves and a few hobbits –and were those elves? - flitted about the entrance, chattering amongst themselves. A few cast him curious glances, but turned away when they saw Balin at his side. Under their feet white marble floors were lavishly decorated with lush red carpeting. The walls were painted a dark brown with white decals, and each was covered by a variety of portraits cast in golden frames of people Bilbo did not recognize. On top of gleaming pedestals were ceramic vases of all colors, but mostly blue. Two staircases ascended towards a second floor, their balustrades shiny from the innumerable brushes of student hands. Bilbo found it excessive, but he could not help being awed by the extent of wealth present even if he felt it could have been put to better use.

“I do not believe I shall ever be ready for this.”

Balin laughed. “Of course not, it is quite a lot to take in. And you’re small and comparatively poor. It’ll take stubbornness and a thick skin to fit in here. There are not just the social conflicts of a regular high school to navigate, but the political and economic relationships of families play a large role in student dynamics. I don’t much know about the Baggineses, but there are a few hobbits here. Of the Took clan I believe.”

“I’m half Took,” Bilbo said.

“Oh good! That will give you some importance and lend more credibility to your presence here. I was afraid you might be labeled the ‘Durin family pet.’”

Bilbo looked appalled.

“Don’t worry. I’m certain you shall quickly make a name for yourself. You will need to, considering who you will be spending most of your time with.”

“What do-“

“Bilbo!” Something hit him in the back and he turned to see an excited Fili and Kili behind him. Bilbo raised an eyebrow at their appearance. They wore the same suit as Balin, a large improvement over the jeans and t-shirt ensemble that had graced his house.

Both had backpacks, Fili’s in red and Kili’s in blue. An effort had been made to improve their hair; Fili’s golden locks were braided neatly at the sides of his face. Kili’s was clean and brushed free of tangles, but whoever had cared for it had obviously given up attempting to tame the mane. It hung loosely around his head.

“We’re in your class!” Kili said eagerly.

“Oh.” He could not think of what to say. On one hand he was grateful that there would be people he knew. On the other hand he did not know if the seemingly mischievous brothers would be anything but troublesome. He would have much perferred Balin.

“Do you not have a uniform?” Fili looked Bilbo up and down.

“I didn’t know . . .”

“I thought he might not, so I brought one.” In a fluid motion Balin slipped his pack of his shoulder and bent to open it. He pulled out a package wrapped in white tissue paper and handed it to Bilbo.

“My job was to introduce you and help settle you in, but class starts in five minutes. You don’t mind if I go, Bilbo? If you really need me I can stay.”

“Go! We’ll make sure he gets changed and to class on time,” Fili said.

“We got this covered!” Kili added with emphasis.

The older dwarf did not look convinced. “Do you even know what your homeroom is?”

“Uhhhh, 1A something.”

“I know it’s in the first wing!” Kili volunteered.

Balin looked to Bilbo, judging the hobbit’s comfort with the vagueness of the brothers knowledge.

Bilbo sighed, “You don’t need to stay. I’m sure we’ll find it. Don’t want you to be late.”

“I hope so.” With that he relinquished his power and slung the pack onto his shoulder again. He strode away, casting one last glance behind him, a reassuring smile, and then disappeared into a hallway.

“So where’s the bathroom, then?” Bilbo asked.

“I don’t know.”

“How should we know?”

“We’re new here too.”

“First year of high school, remember!”

“There’s a map over there though . . .”

Bilbo did not feel very confident he would get to class on time.

* * * * *

“Ah you look really handsome, Bilbo!” Fili had said once he had stepped out of the stall. He wondered how Balin had been able to acquire a suit that fit him perfectly and resolved to ask about it later. He peered at himself in the mirror and ran his hands down his torso. Yes he did look rather handsome.

“Okay, I’ve been looking at this map here,” Kili said, “and our classroom is about here, he circled an area with his finger, “. . . I think.”

In the end they were only fifteen minutes late. Unfortunately, homeroom was only fifteen minutes long. The teacher had given them a stern talking to, but said that since it was the first day she would give them a first chance and not send a report to the office. Bilbo had thanked her profusely, while Fili and Kili practiced looking apologetic in silence. In response she pushed schedules into their arms and shooed them out of the classroom.

“I can’t believe the classes you’ve been signed up for!” Kili grabbed Bilbo’s schedule from his hands. “Uncle must think you’re some kind of genius.”

Bilbo had been pleased by the schedule. Though he had not chosen the classes they fit his interests and abilities well: elementary Sindarin and Khudzul courses, Biology, Geography, Geometry and freshman Foundations in Literature. Only three of the classes would be shared with Fili and Kili, who did not take a language for they already spoke Khudzul, and were apparently not advanced enough in numbers to escape Algebra.

“I am rather good at studies,” he said proudly, then paused, “Wait, Uncle?”

“Oh yeah, Thorin’s our Mom’s younger brother. It’s a bit weird having an Uncle only two years older than you.”

“But everyone’s saying he’s so much more mature. That’s why he should inherit.”

“That’s cause it’s true.”

“Hey, I am just as mature and majestic as Uncle Thorin!”

“All right Kili whatever you say.”

Kili pouted. “With a schedule like that Thorin must know he’s extra smart. I bet Uncle already likes the hobbit more than me. That’s not fair.”

“Like me?” Bilbo asked, “He seemed indifferent if anything.”

“Oh no, that was just the party,” Fili said, “He didn’t know what type of person Gandalf was going to choose. He was surprised. So he tried to hide it, by being stern. He does that a lot. But once he sees how nice you look in that suit he won’t be able to resist you. I know I wouldn’t.”

“You’re gonna make the best host ever Bilbo!”

“Yes you will,” Fili smirked, “Hey, class is gonna start soon so we got to go. See you at eleven then.” He winked then started walking away, a guiding hand on his brother’s back pulling Kili with him.

“See you!” Kili called.  
Bilbo waved weakly back. Then they were gone and he was surrounded by walls too tall and faces of strangers. For the first time he was all alone in Erebor Academy. Small tendrils of fear creeped up, threatening to strangle his brain, and he had to walk to a nearby window and take several deep breaths to steady himself. He stared out at the blue expanse of sky, which stretched boundless and bright like his future.

“What has your son gotten himself into, Belladonna Took?" he asked the air.


	3. From This Day On You Are a Host

Music Room Three was in the Northwest corner. Bilbo pulled the door open as the clock struck eleven.

"Welcome!" a chorus greeted him.

"Ahhhh!" he screamed as he was assaulted by flying rose petals.

"Oh it's just Bilbo."

The flowers fell as the mysterious breeze that had kept them afloat had somehow halted. When he opened his eyes, which had shut instinctively, he saw that Fili and Kili were standing by the door, operating a fan. Ori stood nearby with a basket of roses.

"Is it a dwarven custom to assault someone with flying flowers when they enter your house?!" He spat a petal out of his mouth and brushed the rest off his uniform with irritation.

"We thought they would help set the mood," Ori said, looking despondently down at his basket. "I guess not."

"Flowers are romantic." Bilbo looked around for the source of the new voice and found Thorin sitting in a chair on the other end of the room, fingers steepled. His mouth was stuck in a grim line, obviously displeased at the hobbit's criticism of their tactics. Balin and Dwalin flanked him, each with a hand on either side of the throne. There was no other word for it.

"I beg to differ," Bilbo said. He was not feeling particularly fond of flowers at this moment.

"Then you know nothing of romance!" Thorin stood with force. "Flowers make a woman's heart melt! How can you be a host if you do not know such simple things?"

"I never asked to be a host! And while I'm sure flowers are lovely they are not so nice when they are thrown in your face!"

"He has a point," Balin said, "At least we got to test the idea before any of our customers arrived. Fili, Kili, why don't you put the fan away. Ori, those roses would look well in the empty vase and be just as effective on the hearts of our visiting ladies."

The three went about following the instructions.

"Come here hobbit," Thorin crooked a finger. Bilbo came to stand in front of him.

"I see Balin gave you the clothes I ordered. You look surprisingly good. Perhaps we shall make something of you yet. Now-it is your first day-are you ready to prove your worth?"

"Customers are here." Dwalin was looking at the door, where some ten to fifteen girls of all races stood. Thorin turned from Bilbo and spread his arms out to the visitors. For the second time Bilbo had seen him he smiled, but this was not the small upturn of the sides of his mouth, but a full beam. His dark eyes sparkled with an altogether different air. No longer was he the proud cynic Bilbo thought him to be. He seemed to have thrown all his cares off, at least for now, and stood confident and carefree. To Bilbo it was an unnerving change.

"Welcome, my ladies, to the Erebor Academy Host Club!"

Two girls fainted, but were quite happy to be caught by Fili and Kili who carried them to one of the numerous sofas laid throughout the room.

"Bilbo, why don't you go make tea," Thorin said, eyes not moving from the still standing girls. Some stared back, eyes wide in awe. Some hid giggles behind their hands. Others sent flirtatious glances to individual members, who did not avert their eyes, but mirrored their forthrightness back at them.

"Kitchen's to the left," Balin said.

"Of course," Bilbo said. He scurried off, to do what he knew best.

* * * * *

It took some time for him to make tea, considering the kitchen was unfamiliar to him and there were a lot of people to make tea for. He had to first find where everything was, then balance several kettles boiling all at once, as well as setting out six separate trays. There had been a scare when he thought there had been rats in the pantry when he heard a clanging sound behind the door, but he had been unable to find any vermin. Still, he made a mental note to obtain mousetraps if this was to be his kitchen for a year. When he finally emerged with the first tray of steaming tea, the dwarves were spread all about the room. Except for Balin, who stood in the corner, taking notes it seemed, each was entertaining their own designated girls.

~"Haha, so he comes crawling into my bed, crying because of some nightmare!"

"Fili! How could you tell everyone about that!"

"I-I'm sorry, brother. It's just . . .you're so adorable when you're embarrassed."

"Fili!"

"Kili . . ."

"Oooooh, wow!"

"The brotherly love is so cute I can't take it!"

"Did anything happen when you crawled into his bed?"

"Oh, ladies we can't possibly tell you that!"~

~"You picked these flowers all by yourself, Ori?"

"Yes! I planted them last year so I was really excited for the blossoms. I know I should be learning to fight instead, but I can't help it."

"Well, I'm sure Dwalin will always be there to protect you. He's so very big and strong."

"Mm."

"Dwalin, here look, this one matches your eyes!"

"Ori . . ."

"Look, if we put it right behind your ear we can match!"

"Teehee, he looks so silly!"

"But he'll wear it to make Ori happy."

"Awwww!"~

~"This tea looks strange."

"It's the work of our new member. He's a hobbit, so I am certain he knows how to make tea well, even if it is different from how we dwarves do."

"I'm still scared to try it . . ."

"Dear princess, would you rather drink it from my lips?"

"Oh, Thorin!"~

"This is ridiculous," Bilbo said as watched, resting against the wall next to Balin. "And why is Thorin so different?"

"They are merely using their talents to meet the desires of the customers. Thorin is very popular. As you may have noticed he is both confident and handsome. And he has perfected his techniques such that he is the most highly requested customer." Balin held out the book he was writing in. It was a table of reservations, with days of the week on the top and the hosts' names down the side. Every slot was filled, Thorin's row being the most crowded with names. But Bilbo's eyes fixated on the bottom of the page where his own name stood.

"This is for today?"

"You've received quite a few requests already. We made advertisements through carefully placed plants among the females of the school, who then spread news of our club through word of mouth. We have a website where they can sign up for a time with a host. I wrote a small profile for you and by today you had enough applications to fill a week. We thought we'd let you get your bearings a bit first, observe the routine we've developed, until you're comfortable and ready, but now that you have been making and serving tea for half an hour we must not keep your guests waiting. Are you ready to begin your duties as a host Bilbo Baggins?"

* * * * *

"Your mother and father both died last year? I'm so sorry!"

Bilbo tried to hide his nervousness as he stared up at the three tall, broad girls. He had fervently hoped that he would only have to entertain hobbit lasses or perhaps some dwarves, at least girls more his size. He was looking forward to Berylla Took later this week, whom he knew as a childhood friend. But these daughters of men had requested him out of curiosity.

"Yes. But I do fine on my own. I enjoy housework and cooking. My mother loved to record recipes." He looked down at his hands. "And when I get one right and I can taste the same food she made, well, it makes me very happy."

There was a collective intake of breath. Bilbo looked up and straightened his neck, presenting them with the most genuine smile he could.

"I'd very much enjoy cooking for you ladies sometime."

Three out of three, bravo Bilbo. The increased beating of their hearts was almost audible. The thought of a man who was not afraid of the kitchen, who would dote on them, be polite and considerate, and was not afraid to show his emotions, such were the fantasies that Bilbo filled. Several feet away dwarven heads craned over the backs of sofas, watching the hobbit dance his way into the hearts of his customers.

"I never would have chosen dead parents as a way of chatting up girls," Kili said incredulously.

"Like I said, he's a natural," Fili said.

"It is a unique talent," Balin said, "He needs no affectation. All he has to be is himself."

Thorin was also watching Bilbo pensively, his intentional charm not turned off, but simmering in his distraction.

"Have you no time for your own guests?" the redhaired dwarf girl by his side asked.

He turned back to her with a startled look, as if he had just remembered her presence and had not realized he had been caught in a trance.

"Oh I am sorry. I am just concerned for him."

"You seem very interested in him."

"He is of some interest. He did not initially want to be a host. I wish to see whether he will be a valuable asset to our club."

"Well there must be other things you find interesting."

"Oh yes," Thorin said, turning to fully face her and taking her hand in his, "You, my jewel, are of much interest to me." With ease he slid back into the smooth form of top host.

* * * * *

After the two hours of collective club and lunch time were over, Bilbo found he was exhausted. His girls had been nice, albeit not very interesting. He had been coerced into talking about himself mostly, and he thought to ask about their backgrounds next time to vary the conversation. Having pitched this idea to Balin the older dwarf had agreed that would be a very good idea. It would make him seem a more engaging and down to earth romantic interest. For now the girls had gone in fluffs of skirts, pecks on the cheek and promises to come see him again.

The hallway he was currently walking down was empty. Balin had given him a map and marked out a route to his next class which he said would be the least occupied. Bilbo was grateful for he needed the rest. His next class was Geography, the easiest of his courses, for which he was thankful; even Bilbo had trouble focusing in the early afternoons. So far he was halfway to class, lost in silent meditation, when the sharp click of footsteps alerted him to another. Looking forward he saw a tall, slim figure approaching him. It was too tall to be a hobbit and Bilbo would have thought it a man, if not for an unnatural sense of dread that seemed to follow the figure. A strange tightening caught Bilbo in his chest. The person did not walk like a man, instead it slunk forward, in fluid steps, the rest of its body coiling and uncoiling in time to these beats. It filled the whole hall with a suffocating heaviness. Eventually it reached Bilbo and looked down at him, with glittering green eyes. The person wore a suit dark as night and a fiery red tie. Gleaming golden cufflinks winked out from his sleeves.

"You must be the new scholarship student."

"H-how do you know that?"

"I am the principal. I know all the students," the person extended a hand, "Mr. Smaug, at your service."

"At you and your family's," Bilbo breathed, gingerly taking the hand. Mr. Smaug held him in a vice like grip, shook with one firm motion, and then moved his hand back to his side. Bilbo understood. This was he, the sworn enemy of the Durin family, the reason for his unusual occupation as teenage host. "I understand you are under the protection of the family of Durin." It was as if Smaug had peered right into his thoughts.

"Y-yes, they have been very kind to me."

"Really . . ." Smaug drawled, "they are not known for their generosity. It is most unusual."

Bilbo felt himself tense at the insult. He would not yet call Thorin Oakenshield and Company his friends, but they had been charitable to him. He owed them his loyalty.

"They say there are many in the Durin employment who are not as generous either."

Smaug's eyes flashed. "Best you do not misunderstand Thorin Oakenshield's interest, Mr. Baggins," he growled, "You are simply a tool in his grand manipulations. He picked up the closest thing he could find to fill his needs. He fills his mind with dangerous and rebellious ideas; it would not behoove you to be associated with him."

"Thank you for that advice, sir."

"You are welcome."

The silence that stretched between them prickled and stung. Bilbo wanted to run.

"I must go to Geometry now," he flustered, making a move to pass Smaug. A bony hand caught him on the shoulder. Bilbo froze in terror. Smaug opened his mouth, thin lips deliberate and cruel, but then close it again as if he had something to say, but thought better of it. He released Bilbo.

"Yes, you should," were his last words, before slinking off down the hallway. Bilbo shivered as Smaug's overpowering aura left him feeling weak and vulnerable.

He would ask Balin to find him another route.


End file.
